The Wrong Beds
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Ann and Paul get there arrangements a little bit muddled up when they're sorting out the Christmas sleeping arrangements. Ann/Paul.
1. Chapter 1

**This is what happens when I imagine that things had been a bit different when they were sorting out the sleeping arrangements in the episode when Paul had a Christmas Party. I can do more if you want me to.**

Ann gave Paul an unconvinced look over the top of her empty glass.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" she asked him.

He looked back, giving a quiet say before saying;

"If it's not we can hardly do anything about it now. Everyone will be going to sleep and I doubt anyone's going to appreciate being told to get up and move again."

"No, I suppose not," she sighed too, "We're not very good at organising, are we?"

"We might have been better if you'd had fewer of those," he remarked, tapping the empty glass in her hand, smiling.

"Oh, yes," she let the glass go, letting it drop gently onto the surface of the table, smiling herself and then giggling. She thought she'd be able to stop herself, and then she had a thought, and then she could not stop herself laughing, almost hysterically.

"What is it?" Paul asked her, smiling at her giggling.

"Paul," she asked slowly, "Where are we going to sleep?"

He frowned and did not answer.

"We've forgotten about us, haven't we?" she bit her lip, trying to stop herself from smiling.

He looked at her for another moment.

"I'm surprised you find it so funny," he remarked lightly.

"So am I," she admitted.

He laughed at that too.

"Is there any room at your house, do you think?" he asked.

"We might have some space in the downstairs loo," she replied.

"Hmm," he frowned again, "I know, get your coat on."

"Where are we going?" she asked, standing up nevertheless.

"There's a little flat above the barber's. It's not very well furnished but at least I own it."

She froze.

"Paul," she said, her voice full of warning.

He smiled at her.

"There are two bedrooms," he told her, "Admittedly only one has a bed, but I can easily make do with the settee. That's more space than we have left here, or at your house, and there's eight at Howard and Hilda's."

"I suppose you're right," she agreed, "Alright, but I haven't got a coat, I only came from next door. I don't-..." she muttered, taken aback, seeing how he took his jacket off straight away and offered it to her, "I'm alright. It's far to the car."

"Yes, but I don't think either of us is really fit to drive," he pointed out, "We'll have to walk it."

She sighed, taking the jacket after a moment.

"I don't know," she murmured, eyeing him warily as she put the blazer on, doing up as many of the buttons as she could, "Your parties are alright at the beginning, but I hope they don't all end like this."

He grinned at her.

"Generally not."

"You know what people will say when we get back?" she asked him.

"They need never know," he told her, holding the door open for her, "We can get up and come back early. This lot will probably be in bed until lunchtime."

"Oh, I hope you're right," she told him, going outside.

He followed her, closing the door behind them.

They walked to the end of the Close in silence, as if by agreement, like thieves into the night. All she could think of was what would happen if someone was looking out of one of the windows. They had made their way into the next road before he remarked lightly;

"Funny sort of Christmas."

"Yes," she agreed quietly.

"Oh, come on," he told her, "I know this might not have been exactly how you imagined your night ending, but you don't need to _sound _that unhappy about it."

"I'm not unhappy," she told him truthfully, "I just-... In fact," she started again, "If I hadn't got married and this had happened in another life I don't think I'd be able to be believe my luck at the moment."

"Really?" he asked, "And why's that?"

"Don't do that, Paul, you don't have to wind me up, I'm not Martin, you know what I mean."

"Sorry," he told her, "Yes, I think I do. I'm very flattered, if you're sure it's not just the gin talking."

She looked him in the eye.

"It's not the gin," she told him quietly, very firmly, "I wish it was."

"Ann-..." he began and did not finish.

She kept walking, not turning her head back towards him. She didn't know why she'd told him that. Not that it wasn't perfectly true. Perhaps, it _was _the gin talking. Talking, and saying what she already thought. Her pace had increased and his did too to keep up with her. Perhaps this was all just one terribly, terribly bad idea that was bound to end badly. She had to admit that was a distinct possibility. How had they ended up like this anyway? She thought back through it: the silly sleeping arrangements, the party, leaving the house feeling cross, Martin refusing to go-... She let out an audible sigh.

He must have heard her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"You can go back, you know," he told her, "If you're having second thoughts."

"No, it's alright," she replied, "I've walked this far in the cold, I don't want to go back now."

**Please review if you have the time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the very positive response I got to last night's chapter. I have been suitably encouraged to write this.**

He went in first and put the lights on, and she followed him inside a moment later.

"Well, I didn't say it was much," he told her, "But it's home. Sort of. As you can probably tell, I don't really plan to spend all my holidays here."

It was small, and like he had said it was sparsely furnished, but she was glad to get in from the dark and cold outdoors before it had started to rain.

"It'll do for tonight," she replied, "Better than sleeping in the back garden."

"Yes, it should be marginally warmer than that," he agreed, "Are you cold?" he asked her.

"A little bit," she had taken his jacket off, putting it on the back of one of the four chairs around the table, and was beginning to regret it.

"I'll turn the fire on," he told her, indicating to the small electric device at the side of the room, "I can see about a cup of tea, if you'd like one?"

"Yes, please that would be lovely," she replied as he went to the fire.

"Have a seat," he told her.

"No, let me get the tea," she told him in reply.

"Alright," he agreed, "Kitchen," he pointed towards the correct door.

"Right oh," she told him, "Shouldn't be a minute."

She brewed two mugs of tea in the cramped little kitchen, warming her hands a little on the steam from the spout of the kettle. Once she came back into the kitchen the electric fire had had the chance to take effect and it was marginally warmer. He was sitting on the settee and she joined him there, handing him one of the mugs.

"Thanks," he told her, accepting it.

She sat beside him, consciously leaning in towards his shoulder. It was simply warmer that way, she told herself, and she was only just stopping herself from shivering. He seemed to sense an air of disappointment in her quietness because he said, a moment later;

"I'm sorry about the rather primitive conditions, if I'd known I would have a guest over here I would have been a bit more prepared."

"Will you stop apologising?" she asked him, "Haven't I made it clear that I'm glad to have a roof over my head? Anyway, you needn't worry, it's only me. You don't need to impress me."

She could not think what made her add that last, and took a quick sip of tea to avoid the temptation to dwell on it. He, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas.

"Perhaps I want to impress you, Ann," he told her, "You in particular."

"Why should you want to do that?" she forced lightness into her voice that she certainly did not feel.

He looked at her levelly.

"Ann. I thought we agreed we weren't going to wind each other up."

"Sorry," she replied, smiling a little, "Force of habit, I suppose."

They were quiet for a moment.

"You're still cold," he told her after a moment, sounding aggrieved.

"Perhaps I am," she admitted, wondering how on earth he could possibly tell, perhaps she was shivering without knowing it.

"I could see if there's anything stronger to put in the tea, warm you up a bit," he offered.

"Does a plentiful supply of alcohol follow you around?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied flatly, "I'm surprised it's taken you this long to realise. There's bound to be something in a cupboard."

She smiled.

"Thanks," she replied, "But I don't think me drinking any more would be the best idea."

"Fair enough," he told her, "But you're still going to be cold. We'll have to think of another way to warm you up."

She caught the look in his eye. She almost gulped on her tea as she swallowed the lump that seemed to rise in her throat, but somehow managed to stay vaguely composed.

"Paul," she told him as levelly as she could, "If we've decided that we're not going to wind each other up, then you're overtly trying to seduce me."

Immediately the words had left her mouth, she found it almost impossible to believe that they had. For his part, Paul looked a little bit taken aback too, but managed to disguise it fairly well.

"Aren't I always?" he asked after a moment.

It was then that she spluttered. Hurriedly putting her tea down on the little table beside her, she looked at him rather aghast, leaning away from him a little.

"You mean, you've always been serious?" she asked him, "Every time you've-... made remarks."

"Perfectly," he replied, "Did you think I was joking?"

"Well, yes!" she replied.

"Did you really?" he asked, his eyes narrowing a fraction, "Or is that what you told yourself?"

She sat there silently for a moment, trying to take it in. Trying to work out how it made her feel. Trying to think straight.

"Don't worry," he told her, "I understand how things are. I would never do anything you didn't want me to. But if you did-..."

"I just-..." she trailed off in bemusement, "I never thought you were serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked her, "Have you seen yourself? Ann, you're beautiful."

She felt herself flush right down to the collar of her green dress.

"I always wondered what it would be like, you know," she admitted, a moment later, "What we would be like."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you're being serious?" he asked her lightly.

"Is it likely I'd joke about it now?" she asked him in return, a little sharply.

He was silent. They both were. For long moments.

"Paul," she said at last, her voice quiet but somehow resonant in the silent room as she said it, "I want to."

**Please review if you have the time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you again for the very positive response. Sorry about yesterday's technical problems too. Here it starts to get a little bit smutty.**

There was a slight pause. The disbelief, from both of them, was palpable.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, the incredulity sounding in his voice. Evidently, he could not quite believe what he had just heard.

Her heart was hammering, so loudly she was surprised he couldn't hear it. She swallowed, hard. Why had she said that out loud? She had never said it before. She did not know what had made her, and she certainly did not know what made her go on, in spite of her racing pulse and flared cheeks.

"I want to know what it's like," she pressed on, she kept speaking in spite of everything, she could not stop herself, "Please, Paul. I need to know."

He looked at her quite seriously, knowing that she was in earnest now. She was desperately earnest.

"What's changed?" he asked her.

"I didn't know, before," she told him, "I thought you were only joking. I didn't know you meant it."

"You thought that all of this time I was-...what? Winding you up? Making fun of you?"

She looked at her lap, nodding silently.

"I didn't mind," she told him after a moment.

"Oh, Ann," he leant towards her, his hands resting on her face, touching her skin gently with the pads of his fingers, "I can't believe that's what you thought."

"Look at it from my point of view," she told him, "It's not so unlikely."

Their eyes met. She had been watching his mouth, closer to hers than she thought it had ever been, but now she looked up and her eyes met his straight away. Their breathing seemed to match one another, to fall into the same step of time. He closed his eyes for a second. This is it, she thought wildly, he's going to kiss me-... But it did not come. She waited and it did not arrive. In fact, he pulled back a fraction.

"What about Martin?"

She let out the quietest sigh.

"One of us had to mention him," he told her gravely, leaning back.

Her hands fell into her lap rather helplessly.

"Weren't you thinking about Martin," she asked him levelly, "All of the times you were supposedly seriously propositioning me?"

"I was," he admitted, " And at the same time I wasn't. But now that you seem to be accepting me, at last, I don't know-... I want to know what you're thinking."

There was a silence.

"I know that what he doesn't know won't hurt him," she told him, "And he never need know, need he?"

"Never," he agreed.

"And I need to know," she told him again, "In this moment, now, I need to know what being with you is like, Paul. You can't say what you've said to me now, and expect me not to be curious. Not when I was from the start."

"I don't expect you not to be," he told her gently, "But Ann-... How drunk are you?" he asked plainly.

"Not as much as I was when I left your house," she told him, "Sober enough to know that this is what I want."

He was silent.

"Paul," she told him slowly, when he still did not say anything, "You know, I could just move my leg over you and consummate this irritating longing right now?"

His mouth fell agape. She smiled, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning. She reached her hand out, resting it on his chest. His heart was racing too, she noted with no small degree of satisfaction. She felt his hand move, resting on her waist. There was something in his touch that was uncharacteristically shy; she smiled again, thinking what a shock she must have given him.

"Come on," she told him gently, whispering almost, coaxing him, "You've wanted me all this time, and I've wanted you. And now you can have me."

She heard him let out a soft groan as he leant forwards to kiss her. And then it was her turn to moan quietly. He was a very good kisser. Of course he was.

His arms were around her, holding her as their lips locked together, their tongues exploring one another's mouth, as her lay her gently back on the settee and lay down over her.

"Oh, Paul," she murmured quietly as his mouth moved down to her neck, "Paul," she sighed contentedly.

He pulled away a little.

"I've waited so long to hear you say my name like that," he told her.

"Have you?" she asked.

"Yes."

His hands in her hair had made it come down and it spilled over her shoulders and into his hands. He buried his face in it, leaning in to nuzzle and kiss her ear, pressing their bodies close together as he did so. She could not help but shiver.

"Ann," he murmured, his breath hot in her ear, "I want you."

She shivered again, in fact by now she was just outright shaking. It was the most erotic thing she had ever heard, and his hands moving downwards, cupping her breasts over her dress and bra did not help.

He sat up with surprising ease, pulling her with him. She followed limply. His hands were undoing the buttons on the front of her dress as their lips met again.

"Ann," he asked her between kisses, "Let me take you to bed?"

She shook her head.

"Here, Paul," she told him, her head falling back as his mouth moved lower, down the valley between her breasts, "Here, now. I don't think I can walk."

He looked up at her face.

"My God, you're beautiful," he murmured.

He slipped her dress off her shoulders, then lifted the whole thing over her head. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as he reached forward to touch her breast through the lace and silk of her bra. She only just managed to pull the thing off both his shoulders before she felt him reach around her back and undo the clasp in one smooth motion. He watched, a look of wonderment on his face as it fell away. He kissed both of her breasts, cupping them fully in his hands, kneading them firmly.

"Paul," she moaned, her head rolling back again.

She put her legs around his waist.

"Please."

"Ann," he told her gently, easing her to lie down again, "Be patient. If I'm only ever going to do this once, and I fully accept that this might be the case, I'm going to do this properly. I'm going to have you completely naked, I'm going to make you come-..."

"Paul," his name escaped her lips in a sob as he lay on top of her, pressing his body against his, she did not care that she was begging him, "Please."

He sat up again, taking some of his weight off her.

"Alright," he told her, "Alright."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	4. Chapter 4

His fingers slipped under the waistband of her tights and underwear, drawing them as one down her legs and off. She shivered with arousal and the coldness of the room until he lay down again with his body close to hers, kissing her neck and caressing her with his hands. She moaned gently, gasping as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, kissing her collarbone with his mouth open as he did so.

"Oh, my darling," he murmured, "I've thought about doing this for so long."

His fingers tracing the line of her hip was enough to make her whimper. She keened out loud as he slipped a finger between her folds ever so briefly before withdrawing it. He repeated the motion, leaving his hand there for just a fraction longer before withdrawing again. He knew exactly what he was doing. Her hips arched off the sofa and she panted helplessly.

"Paul," she moaned, fighting to recover her breath, "Don't-... tease me. I can't stand it."

"Don't you like it?" he whispered softly, brushing his fingers so softly on the edge of her clitoris.

"I want more, Paul. Please."

He hovered with his face inches away from hers, feigning indecision. She by then had recovered enough to show him that she wasn't standing for any of that. Sitting up, she captured his lips, surprising him immensely. Her hand flat on his chest, she pushed him to sit up straight and straddled his lap, her hands roaming over his body. One of his hands rested in the small of her back, the other returned to between her legs, denying her nothing now, slipping two fingers inside her and pushing against her with his thumb. She rocked against him, clutching the back of his neck. Her hair fell dark down her back, and he leant in towards her again, kissing her throat.

Her pleasured her hard and fully, his fingers moving ever so easily in the slickness of her heat. His hand dropped to cup her bottom, and his head lowered to kiss her breasts, he was lifting her against him, pushing her higher all of the time.

"Oh, God, Paul!" she cried out, unable to stop herself, "Yes, YES!"

She orgasm was unlike anything she had ever felt in her life. She seemed to explode, to dissolve. Everything was dark. She felt herself clinging to him, shaking, making noises she couldn't quite believe. Every bone in her body was on fire, such delicious, all-consuming fire.

She opened her eyes. She was lying down on the settee. He was lying beside her, pressed close against her so that they could both lie there. His hand was gently brushing against her arm. It was soothing.

When he saw that her eyes were open he leant forwards and gently kissed her lips.

"What happened?" she asked stupidly.

"You blacked out," there was a little smile on his mouth.

"Oh," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he told her gently, his hand leaving her arm and moving to brush her face, "Don't you dare be sorry."

She kissed his palm as it came near her mouth. Their eyes met and they leant towards each other again, exchanging a kiss that started almost chaste and grew increasingly heated.

"Paul," she murmured as they broke away.

"Ann?"

"Make love to me? Please."

He knew better than to deny her now. To her delight, she realised he had taken his trousers off while she had been recovering, and moved immediately to accommodate him between her legs. When he paused for a second her hand darted out and took hold of his long, hard length. He groaned quietly as she guided him firmly towards her, positioning him at her entrance. He slipped inside her without complaint. She gasped, feeling herself stretching around him.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, "I'm fine," kissing his chest, "I just needed a second. You're so-... You're so close to me."

The way she said it, the small choke in her voice had an effect on him too, she could tell. He kissed her forehead once before he began to move. She sighed her contentment as he withdrew from her and then pushed back in. He kept his pace deliberate and measured until she asked for him to do otherwise.

"Oh, Paul. Harder, please. Harder."

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her arms circled his back. He did as she bid him, thrusting into her harder and faster. The cold little room was filled with the sounds they were making and warmed by the heat of their joined bodies.

"You know, Ann," he told her, a little breathlessly, lifting his lips from her collarbone, "I want to tell you something."

"What?" she managed to pant, her eyes half shut with lust.

He leant up a little, thrusting into her once more and caressing her breast.

"I'm in love with you."

And then she broke.

**Please review if you have the time.**


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as she could, as soon as she could think, she sat up.

"Paul. Paul!" she took his face in her hands, making him look at her, "What did you say?"

His eyes were still heavy; he had not fully recovered yet.

"Paul," she caressed his face with her hands, trying to make him come back to her, "Sweetheart. Darling. What did you just say to me? Say it again."

"I'm in love with you, Ann," his voice was hoarse and slow.

She was silent for a moment, staring at him.

"And are you?" she asked.

"Yes."

Her hands left his face. She sat up straight, not caring that she was naked and starting to get cold, staring into the darkness of the little flat. She didn't know what to say.

"Are you just saying that," she asked him a moment later, "To make me feel better about what we just did?"

He sat up too, a little unsteadily.

"No," he replied.

She floundered.

"Don't you say that to every girl you're with?" she asked him desperately, spitefully, almost.

"Would it make it easier for you if I said that I did?" he asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know-..." she told him, "I don't know."

She took a deep breath.

"I don't, as a matter of fact," he added to avoid the power, the sheer murderous depth of her silence.

They sat there, side by side, each looking into the darkness.

"You'll get cold," he told her.

"How could you?" she exclaimed at the same time, turning to him angrily, "How could you say _that_, _then_? How on earth am I supposed to forget about this now? How on earth can I go on as if things are normal?"

"How am I supposed to pretend that this hasn't happened?" he asked her, "Do you know how hard it will be, Ann, for me to pretend that we haven't made love?"

"You should have thought of that before," she told him harshly, "How was I to know that you would say that to me?" she enquired wildly.

"I didn't know what it would be like," he admitted after a moment, "Ann... You were-... I didn't know. I'd never imagined it would be like that. It's never been like that with anyone else."

She could not think of what to say.

"It's never been like that with Martin, has it?"

"How dare you?" she snapped, "How dare you bring up my husband's name, now?"

There was a silence.

"I'm sorry," he told her, very quietly.

She let out a long breath, and spoke much more softly;

"Yes, so am I."

Silence.

"Ann? What are we going to do?"

She sighed again.

"I don't know," she replied truthfully, then, finally turning to look at him again, "Nothing will ever be normal again. You're right about that."

"Will you tell Martin?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied, "Not straight away."

"If you did," he told her slowly, "If you wanted to-... I would be there. For you. If you wanted me."

She thought it was the most unsure she'd ever seen him, and it touched something deep within her.

"Thank you," she told him quietly, "I promise, I'll let you know. But I need to think about it first."

"Yes," he replied, "Of course."

Their hands found one another somehow, their fingers linked and they squeezed tightly.

He looked at her intently.

"Darling-..."

She couldn't take it.

"Don't," she told him firmly, "Not yet. I can't take it." 

He nodded.

"One day?"

"Maybe one day."

**end.**

**Thank you so much for all your support while I wrote this. I'd love a final review.**


End file.
